


made space bend around us

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: what if we [3]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry loved having them over, of <i>course</i> he did. Just... Something was bugging him and he wasn't sure yet what it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	made space bend around us

“Did you buy a new rice cooker yet?” Ryeowook asked when he’d hardly come through the door, picking up discarded wrappers and dirty dishes as he made his way towards and then through the kitchen. He clicked his tongue, but made no further comment.

“Yeah, yeah, I didn't forget,” Henry answered, a bit put off. He reminded himself that Ryeowook would move on to something else soon; it was just his way.

“It’s broken?” Donghae said as he joined them, forehead wrinkling and eyes wide. He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, tapping one socked foot. “It was fine when I was here.”

“It broke two weeks ago,” Ryeowook said. Hundreds of crinkles later, his arms were wrapped snugly around Henry. _That’s more like it,_ he thought, a knot of tension unraveling.

It was with reluctance that he let Ryeowook go to wash his hands, determined to get more contact later.  “I don’t use it all that much… mrf.” Unintentionally, Henry concluded his sentence into Donghae’s sleeve - unintentional on his part, that is, not Donghae’s, who now had one arm wrapped around his head and the other over his shoulders, pecking his forehead, his cheek, his jaw, then back up again. “Nice to see you too,” he said, sounding mushier than he’d like, his hands settling on Donghae’s waist.

Ryeowook giggled somewhere behind them. “Too cute!” he cooed.

A few seconds passed before Donghae stopped squishing Henry’s head, arm falling around his shoulders instead with a content exhale. Encircling him fully, Henry turned them in a half circle, his chin hooked over Donghae’s shoulder. He beamed with self-satisfaction. Nothing wrong with acknowledging his charms, after all.

The familiar expression he was greeted with spoke of indulgence and delight. The rest of Ryeowook was leaning back, supported by the counter, arms crossed and one ankle over the other. An appropriate time, Henry felt,  to send an air kiss, setting off a second round of giggles. Ryeowook’s scrunched nose and bright smile, partially hidden as he ducked his head and his bangs fell forward, still gave Henry a happy flutter just under his ribs. If anything, that made it all the _more_ endearing.

One more squeeze, then Donghae released him to grab a bag off the floor. A small, plain bag that he put down on the dining table. Watching it attentively, he set it down with hardly a rustle.

Henry stared at the bag. The bag stared at him. Patience… wasn't his strongest virtue. Nonetheless, Donghae does things in his own time and at his own pace, the results worth it, so, waiting it is.

He spun sharply towards the the sound of sliding metal.

"What? I feel like having toast,” Donghae said with a blank expression.

“Sure,” Henry said sort of vacantly, already being pulled in another direction. The faint alarm bell in his mind was muted for the time being.

Ryeowook took Henry’s hand, bending his fingers and rubbing the backs of them over his own cheek with happy humming. His skin felt cool to the touch; that would be changed in due time. (Not when he’s running his teeth over his lip like he’s about to talk. It didn’t take long to find out that he _hates_ being interrupted then.) “I’ve had such a rough week.”

A part of Henry slumped with relief to hear that - not because it’s a good thing, but because it shows Ryeowook’s been listening about opening up to him. Thanking him could give the wrong impression, though, in a hundred different ways that flitted through Henry’s mind in a split second. (He doesn’t pretend to be free of his own worries or insecurities; treading carefully is _not_ the same problem. Pretty sure. He’ll keep thinking about it.)

The space left open to continue remained empty. _That’s okay. One step at a time._

Kisses can say a lot and help even more, so that was the path he took. The shape of Ryeowook’s shoulders engraved itself into his hands. His thumbs moved more for connection than sensation as he leaned in closer. Ryeowook opened up in front of him, beneath his hands, his entire countenance brightening in anticipation. Joy bubbled up in Henry’s chest. So close, he let his eyelids fall closed first, their lips touching softly.

Exactly one second empty of breath passed between them. Floating. Time and breathing resumed; everything else fell away as they stayed connected at those three radiating points.

When he pulled away, Ryeowook lingered as though he didn’t expect them to ever part, his eyes still closed, his mouth just barely pursed, his neck straining the slightest bit forward and up. He was so beautiful that it made Henry ache for the hundred millionth time.

“Love you,” Ryeowook said. That he did so without prompting brought the faintest threat of tears welling up in Henry’s eyes.

The toaster popped. Donghae squeezed Henry’s sides. He may or may not have yelped in surprise. “Ack! Quit that!” It’s possible that he accidentally squeezed Ryeowook’s shoulders as well. For all he knew, that’s why Ryeowook poked his stomach. Or to torment him more.

“Hyu-ung!” Henry whined, though he wasn’t quite certain who it was directed towards.

“You’re really too cute,” Donghae said with another squeeze, this time with added nuzzling to his neck. “Get me something to drink?”

“What do you want?”

As soon as he looked over for an answer, he realized that Donghae had already taken over where he’d left off, sneaky fingers pulling out the hem of Ryeowook’s shirt to get under it and sneakier mouth clearly occupied somehow to make half-surprised, half-pleased sounds fill the air.

“Juice it is,” Henry said. Donghae gave a quick thumbs up before pressing Ryeowook back against the counter, sunbeams shining over them.

Henry decided to let it go this time. Still, an unknown something prickled just beneath the surface.

*

What Donghae took out of the nondescript mystery bag was neatly wrapped in plain red paper. Henry had been _this close_ to grabbing a marker to draw an elaborate question mark on the bag. But what if Donghae wanted to reuse it? Then he’d feel a little bad for making it look like something off a game show. Anyway, there was no occasion he could think of, leaving him overly cautious as he removed the wrapping.

Nothing to fear this time, as it turned out - it was a frame, a simple, tasteful silver border around a quick photo from when Ryeowook's hair had grown out enough to be styled decently by his standards. The smile he wore wasn't tight-lipped and self-conscious, but rather one a half step down from the peak of laughter after Donghae made some awful pun off a list he'd boasted about finding.

That was when he snapped the photo, as soon as he wasn't laughing too hard himself. There wasn't anything all that artistic about the shot; still, it was Henry’s favorite. Guess Donghae catching him looking at it once was enough to stick the idea in his head.

“Thank you,” Henry mumbled, staring at it a few seconds more. So many feelings welled up. He was transported through time in that silent stretch, wrapped up in the elation and relief and shuddering grip of uncertainty.

“You don’t like it?” Donghae asked, the quaver in his voice stabbing into Henry’s chest.

“What?” He looked up at Donghae, eyes wide, startled out of his reverie. “No, I love it!” Coming back to the present was a slow journey, but at the end of it, he pushed out a smile at last. Donghae returned it, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other, drumming on each thigh as he lifted it. _Whew. That could’ve been bad._ “I’ll go put it on the nightstand for now.” As Henry walked, he felt the smooth back for some kind of stand or lever. “A-ha!”

He folded it out, inexplicably almost toppling the frame four different directions, before he found its balance. The contrast between its shine and the charcoal-colored shallow bowl full of smooth glass stones was inviting. He touched the corner of the frame, focusing on it digging into the pad of his thumb, then took a handful of the smooth stones, homed in on the clatter of letting them fall back down.

Deep breath. Deeeeeep breath. There. Okay.

When he turned around, he found Donghae peeking around the doorframe. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Henry said, holding his arms out in offering while he willed his answer to be true. Too forceful by half, Donghae nearly knocked him over, embracing him as though any space left between them was a grave affront. Henry hugged back just as hard, his arms encircling Donghae’s shoulders with a long exhale, pushing one foot between his. That always helped cheer him up.

“Seriously, is something wrong?” Donghae’s voice rumbled pleasantly into his shoulder. Could be he’s been overthinking a bad day or something.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, running his fingers through the hair on the back of Donghae’s head. “But thanks for checking. Is there anything- Whoa!”

He suddenly found himself flung backwards. Incomprehensibly, Donghae had taken that- something as his cue to dip Henry back over his arm while he was in the middle of a sentence. The timing really could’ve been better, like, say, when he was prepared for it and it wouldn’t make his head spin a little. Donghae put him upright just as- energetically, smiling huge.

“Weirdo,” Henry muttered into Donghae’s mouth. With an even lower rumble, almost a groan, they push themselves close together again, their fingers tangling together as smoothly as a ritual.

Donghae loves so genuinely that one can't help but be swept up in it. He’s sun showers, the laughter at festivals, cloudless blue skies seen through swaying leaves. _I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that by now._

*

It’d been a while since he’d seen a self-help book that look worth picking up. He happened upon one of those deep discount ebook sales, or a bundle or something, months and months ago, and the title sounded interesting, so it was hardly a difficult decision to nab it. Always worth seeing if there’s something he doesn’t know about time management. Having gotten absorbed in it, he’d only noticed now that his eyes stung. Ow, yep, they’d gotten dry. A quick break was in order, not to mention a lot of blinking.

Look at something far away, that was the trick. He then glanced over to see Ryeowook reading a travel guide, suppressing a snicker at how old-fashioned he was, and Donghae reading a comic book to start working on his English again like he’d kept talking about. Guess that beat-up-looking box that had moved with him three times unopened came in handy after all. The look on Donghae’s face had been… indescribable. In a good way. Not the usual bouncing, energetic excitement, but rather, something sort of- shy. Happy, though.

Sometimes, Henry still wondered about it.

Right now, Donghae had headphones left dangling around his neck, fiddling with them between turning pages as though he was always on the verge of retreating into them.

 _This is great._ The thought came as a reprieve all its own. Donghae was on the opposite end of the couch and Ryeowook was sinking into the armchair he’d picked out a couple of months ago. (Of course Henry agreed. If he’d ever not been enchanted by that sweet voice, he couldn’t remember such a time.)

He smiled, a small, hidden thing, and found the paragraph he was on once more.

*

“Come on, let’s go out for once!” Ryeowook said, dropping a hat onto Henry’s head with a laugh more carefree than he’d heard in ages. By the time he’d recovered enough to push the brim off of his eyes, not only had Ryeowook already gotten his coat on, but Donghae’s hands were in the pockets of said coat and he was walking both of them forward at a leisurely pace. “Why are you pushing me? It was my idea!” Ryeowook giggled his way through the words. Donghae mumbled something back.

“Don’t leave me behind!” Henry mock-whined while he pocketed his phone. In an instant, it seemed, or at least as soon as he was within reach, Donghae’s hand darted out to grab his wrist.

“Wait a second,” Donghae said. Sounding rougher than expected, he let go, repeated himself, cupped Henry’s cheeks. They looked at each other for a long moment. The world disappeared in favor of the forceful press of his lips and Henry couldn’t care less whether it ever came back.

But it did, of course.

“Now we can go,” Donghae said, all self-satisfied cheer, his touch falling away like sand while Henry’s heart still pounded like the tide.

“I know just the place,” he said to their backs while they made their way down.

Though it was only a block or two, and ten times less touching, the prickle disappeared as soon as they were on the sidewalk. _I think… maybe…_ Not quite formed yet, but a clue that couldn’t be ignored.

Donghae’s arm hung loosely around his shoulders, an outside kind of hold. Awash in a different unease, Henry gave in to the urge to bury his face in the softness of Donghae’s sweater for one, two seconds. That was all he needed.

Practice, clawing bitter and steely in his gut, and the fleeting chill of metal against his fingers allowed him to keep his wits about him. Though irrational, he wished there was something rougher to run his fingers over. He snuck in a pinch to Ryeowook’s discarded coat. Rubbed it between the pads of his index finger and thumb. Wool, he was pretty sure. What was _happening_ to him today? He couldn’t make sense of it.

“Do you like sunflowers?” Donghae asked, then before Henry could answer or do more than open his mouth, “Do you like day or night better?”

*

Out of nowhere, Donghae insisted on watching the news. Conceding was easy, and so was Ryeowook leaning his head on Henry’s shoulder, slumped over the way he only did when he was drowsy. Slightly more difficult was moving him so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable in a couple of minutes. That was mostly muscle memory at this point, shifting until he made a weak mewl of contentment. _Perfect._

Donghae sat on the floor, one leg bent and one flat, resting back against the couch. Henry's right hand was covered by Ryeowook's, his left moving in slow sweeps over Donghae's hair, and nothing had ever felt more right, made him feel more settled in his skin.

If asked, he wouldn't be able to recall a single word.

Really, he was still relatively alert - being the only one without the posture of mush right now attested to that - but Donghae picked him up and carried him to bed anyway. He was completely okay with that.

*

He knew something was up as soon as the blanket was thrown off. It was obvious, not to mention, he was still keyed up for some reason from the way Donghae had laid him down, though he couldn’t say what it was that tipped him off.

"We've discussed this thoroughly,” Ryeowook said, no longer languid with near-sleep, pressing back against Henry behind him, “and have come to a conclusion.”

The husky tone of the words burned up the fog of sleep to mere wisps.

"Oh?" Henry said breathlessly.

Ryeowook's fingers reached back for his hair, as was his wont, but his aim wasn’t the best. Henry kissed the inside of his wrist because it was pressed directly against his mouth, soft and warm and inviting. He could feel Donghae’s breath on the back of his neck, staccato gusts just below his hair line, dead center, at the border of his back. Ryeowook let out a content sound, his reaching more accurate the second time around after his detour.

"Mm," Donghae added, his interest soon palpable against the back of Henry's thigh as he pressed a line of soft kisses down his spine.

"You've been working too hard," Ryeowook purred. "It's been too long."

"You're right, it has," Henry agreed with a groan. Fuck, he loves being in the middle.

*

He drifted off to thoughts of sunscreen-scented kisses, light as can be.

*

 _Too early._ Slow blink. Blink. _Looks like Donghae took off his shirt in his sleep again. Must’ve overheated._ Henry rolled over onto his other side, half curling around Ryeowook, his leg touching Donghae’s in too many comforting places to count when he sprawled out.

*

Though Henry can't remember when it was, Donghae had proclaimed one day that he was going to become an early riser. Looking at his face, slack with sleep, it was clear that he hadn't yet gotten the hang of it. Good thing he hadn't asked Henry to wake him up. Donghae looked so adorable sleeping that it'd be difficult to bring himself to do it.

Shaking his head and smiling to himself, he accepted that he'd found yet another soft spot he had. Could be he was all soft spots, or would be, at this rate. _But that's love for you._

He crept out of bed. With every step, he glanced back to check that Donghae was still asleep. Some of the antics that came naturally to him when he was alone took on a churn of hesitation when sharing his space. Defiant, he stretched one leg back as he bent to pick up his shorts off the floor, tossing them high to have enough time to catch them on his other arm when he unbent.

Then immediately had to grab them to keep them from sliding off.

Donghae snorted. When Henry twisted to look, he was still asleep, snorting louder a second time.

Some kind of creak came from beyond the doorway. Henry slid the no-longer-airborne shorts on while he followed the dim trail of sound. The elastic was too new and still dug into his skin. Oh well, good a time as any to break this pair in. (Not that Donghae’s teeth hadn’t helped, of course. And hurt a bit, but in a good way.)

Ryeowook was sitting on the wooden bench, a mug in front of him and one of the bananas that had only been bought for him in the first place in his hand. For a second, it looked like he’d been frowning in contemplation, but it was gone before Henry could be sure.

“Oh, you’re awake! Did you sleep well?” Ryeowook said sweetly, his head tipping just a bit to the side. The banana tipped with him. _What a wonderful sight to wake up to._

“Yeah, thanks,” Henry croaked. “And you?”

“Veeeery well. Ah,” Ryeowook’s entire face brightened, which frankly should’ve been impossible. “Thank you for remembering,” he said with a beaming smile as he flicked the banana like he was casting a spell, his eyes scrunching with affection. Henry made a vague noise of acknowledgement through his yawn, resting his elbows on the table. He watched as Ryeowook pinched the top, watched his fingers, stared at the fruit going into his mouth open so wide for it.

That’s all it took to make him forget to be self-conscious about being self-conscious.

It was halfway gone by the time Ryeowook acknowledged his staring. He chuckled, only speaking after swallowing his current mouthful. “Is that how it is? Okay,” he said with a fuller laugh, mischief written all over his face.

“But I didn't say anything,” Henry said, hazy with the last traces of sleep. Popping the rest into his mouth, Ryeowook held the remaining piece steady with the tip of his index finger, hastier than before.

There seemed to be no time at all between when he got up from the table and when there was no air left between them.

Ryeowook gave him a look just then, hungry, or proprietary. His hand was soft where it smoothed down Henry’s side, warm and solid where it took hold of his hip, steady and sure where it palmed him through his shorts. He made a low, pleased sound. Henry swallowed from tightrope-tense anticipation.

“Your shower fits two just fine,” Ryeowook said. He pointed with his chin, a quick there and back tilt of his head, and he licked his lips and off they go.

Going along has proven the principle many times over, Henry thought, that unexpected doesn’t have to mean bad.

*

“Love you” fell from his lips again and again, the motions of forming the “v” with his mouth tasting sweet as apples on the verge of overripe, the water hot enough to pleasantly pelt his hands where they were tangled in wet strands.

*

Concentrating was the next step, in order to pick among four different shampoo bottles, three of which were Donghae's because he couldn't pick which scent he liked best. No, it wasn’t right to think of it that way. He liked a bit of variety, that’s all. _Why am I so pissy today? What the hell?_

Frustrated that his good mood had evaporated, Henry grabbed one at random. Unfortunately, it was a squeeze bottle, so in his random irritation, he ended up with a giant glob sitting on his head and a slimy trail making its way down his back. “Fuck.”

He turned on wobbly legs - the other reason he stayed in longer - so he could unslime himself.

The faintest echo of Ryeowook’s humming filtered in through the sound of the water, woven between hard clanks of plastic on metal. Languor takes over autopilot, the sensory experience overwhelms emotion; he let himself fall into its rhythm.

Ryeowook was in the robe he brought in, damp and bright and full of cheer, when Henry stepped out. Though he’s embarrassed about it for a second, the bigger part of him is pleased down to his toes when Ryeowook toweled down his hair for him, making wordless sounds of affection as he does so. A mutual indulgence, Henry relaxed into his warmth and attention.

And wiped off a stray bit of shaving gel right next to his ear with his index finger.

The hug he got was wetter than his original plans. Regardless, he held on all the harder, rubbing a few circles into Ryeowook’s back through the robe before coming to a stop. They stood there, melting into each other, the whirr of the vent the only intruder into the silence. That, too, faded away. Hundreds of words choke him in moments like these, and this one was no different. He settled for a few more circles. Ryeowook was humming something else now, something full of drawn-out, soporific notes.

Cupping his cheek, Henry kissed him, soft and steady, until the makings of a puddle nipped at their feet with prickling chill. Ryeowook moved his lips just so, a fraction that started them over again, and didn’t let go until the wobble returned to Henry’s legs.

*

A bunch of small, kind of round objects were suddenly pushed into his hand. “What’s this?”

“You’re in your thirties now-“ Ryeowook started in a lecturing tone.

“Don’t remind me,” Henry muttered.

“-so you have to take extra good care of yourself,” sounding at least less serious, he leaned in really close now, “to keep your cute little face,” ending with a cheek pinch. _I really should’ve expected that._

Henry conceded with a fond half smile of resignation. “Okay, only for you.” The handful of tablets was dry and unpleasant as soon as it hit his tongue, cutting through the mouthful of water he had drunk beforehand, so he added some more before tipping his head forward. Tacky, sour-stinging residue left him scowling, the muscles in his jaw and cheeks tightening. “Blech. Do you make Donghae take these too?” He knocked back another mouthful of water, swishing it around. Didn’t help much, he realized as he swallowed that as well.

Ryeowook tilted his head, looking contemplative. Elbows propped up on the table, he laced his fingers together, resting his chin on the lattice they formed. “Donghae… is hopeless,” he said, solemnity almost overtaken by amusement.

“I heard that!” Donghae yelled from the living room, followed by what sounded like a book dropping on the floor. Hopefully.

“I didn’t mean about your face!” Ryeowook yelled in vaguely the right direction, looking mildly offended.

Dropping his head into his hands and laughing seemed appropriate, so Henry did just that.

*

Ryeowook made an annoyed hiss. “My knees are hurting,” he said as he rubbed at them, sounding part plaintive and part resigned. Henry squirmed and tried not to scoot away.

Without a word, Donghae slid to the floor, where he ended up more often than not, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he started massaging the areas around Ryeowook’s knee. He dropped a kiss onto each kneecap. “Any better?”

“Mm, yeah,” Ryeowook said, tilting forward and running his fingers through Donghae’s hair. “Can you do more?”

“Sure,” Donghae said amicably. With a look of concentration, his hands moved right above Ryeowook’s knee, his fingertips digging tiny synchronized circles into the skin to low, almost sensual pleased hums.

The air felt good and calm now, the situation solidly anchored. Clear. Comfortable (enough). Henry lay down, rested his lower legs on the arm of the couch, let his feet dangle over the edge as he nudged his way under Ryeowook's arm to lay his head on his lap. The itch of discontent fell far, far beneath the surface in the face of their gentle warmth.

*

Since Ryeowook kindly but insistently pushed him away from the stove, handing over a cup of tea ( _how did he know before I did?_ ) and telling him with certainty that it was his turn and he’d take care of lunch today, Henry was left at loose ends. His mail and messages didn’t take long to catch up on for once, thus, here he was, noodling around on an acoustic guitar, joining Donghae, if not in person upstairs in the studio, then at least in spirit. Sort of.

Strumming aimlessly to kick off muscle memory, it wasn’t long, only a few minutes of something he’d long since forgotten the name of, before a twinge told him that some of his calluses had gone soft. Still, he persevered, though admittedly not very hard. He let his mind wander a week into the future, then a week back. A song from a commercial got stuck in his head, so he tried to replicate it. He shook out his hand. Put the guitar away, contemplated a nap.

The clanks and clacks of thick glass and rigid plastic soothed him with their familiarity. Endearing, watching Ryeowook’s back through half-open eyes as he carefully laid everything out.

Soon after, though, that turned to worry when he stopped for a few seconds, his shoulders slumped, but he also insisted he was fine when asked. Clearly, the matter needed some space, whatever it was. Henry watched closely; it didn’t happen again.

The pleasant, happy sounds that had filtered downstairs from Donghae’s work ( _why does he keep leaving the door open when he didn’t used to forget?)_ , at least half an hour of something in a major key interspersed with snatches of whistling and the occasional outburst of cheerful multilingual cursing, faded away to be replaced by the creak of his heavy steps down the stairs.

Sometimes, Henry wonders if it makes sense that they talk so little. Not all the time, but occasionally like this.

Reminders come his way that they don’t always need words. Wonderful ones like the gleam in Donghae’s eye, the aggressive quirk of his lips.

Thunderous bass, enough to resonate in his bones, fills the space without warning, drawing him in by a rope of digitally twisted pulses and crags. The pounding moves through it and him indiscriminately. Donghae, too, strangely sensual swaying, fluid and alluring, a river flowing towards him to submerge him hip-deep. The not-there cold sensation made him shiver. Napping was no longer on the table. (But he wanted to be, if it meant Donghae would devour him with that same look, would _touch_ him with surety and intent.)

Solid, now, the nip to his bottom lip only making him crave more, the outright grinding against him the kind that made it seem a waste to be wearing clothes at all.

Donghae's hands ran down his back, fingertips insinuating themselves beneath his waistband. In turn, Henry placed his hands on Donghae's chest, considering how best to agree to anything he’s asking and whether they should have an audience. (That was up to Donghae. The answer was almost inevitably yes.)

Direct. Direct is good. Henry put his mouth right next Donghae's ear. "Listen,” he said, making it sound like a secret, which was key to this plan. Yeah, he’d definitely learned a thing or two by now. “I've got an idea."

Luckily, lunch didn't get burned.

*

“Sorry,” Ryeowook said with all the sorrow in the world condensed into his cute little face, “we’ll catch up on movies next time, okay?” Even though his shoes were already on, he seemed hesitant to leave, biting the corner of his mouth. Still and tense. He leaned up to kiss Henry, gripping his upper arms tightly. It was sweet and only a little disappointing.

“Of course,” Henry said with a tight smile that’s more of a grimace, feeling Donghae’s hand slip into his. “I’ll walk with you to your car.”

After a single sharp nod, Ryeowook stared sadly, intensely for another few seconds, then patted down his pockets. One last kiss completed the routine. After that, the door was open.

The façade of a turnaround was already in place before it clicked shut. Cheerful. Attached, warm, but not too enthusiastic. Light, meaningless chatter.

As always, everything changed when the world looked on.

*

A spraying sound on the edge of sleep morphed into the ocean in his dreams.

*

He was sure he’d been alone in his bed when he’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t care because Donghae's hugs were the warmest, especially right after a nap, waking up in his arms.

“I have to go too,” Donghae whispered. “You rest up, okay?”

Not fully conscious, Henry whined.

“Fine, fine, I can stay another minute,” Donghae said, then Henry was enveloped by warmth and colors and fuzzy sounds. Soft lips on the back of his neck, strong arms holding him close, and so… warm…

*

When he woke up, he thought about home - actual home, but it wasn’t anymore? Still, he thought about it, all those rooms, so spacious, almost like… you could get lost in it. Almost, but not quite.

After that, he thought about how this space was entirely his. Not as big, no, nowhere near, but his in the way where he’d been too excited to show it off, in the way that he’d picked out every single thing, used to know every texture and quirk. If he let himself, he could feel each intrusion as a tear in that fabric. He didn’t want to, so he didn’t. Tears could be on purpose; each one had an energy all its own that eased the cold.

 _Oh._ He pieced together what the spraying sound had been. The door hinge didn’t squeak; that’s why he was able to sleep through Donghae leaving.

He’s lonely. They’re gone and he’s lonely.

*

"Why do you have so many combs? And- three toothbrushes?" Amber turned on him with gleeful mockery radiating from a frankly frightening grin.

A second too slow, he caught up to her meaning. Damnit, now she's going to give him unending hell for that, too. The hope that she wouldn't be that observant burned up into ashes.

"Oh my god, you're _nesting!_ " Then she _actually cackled_. Like a villain. What the hell.

"I am _not!_ " He crossed his arms. He wasn’t petulant at _all_ , he was calm and rational and would figure out a better response any moment now.

“So much for ‘never again’.” He dodged out of the way of- he didn’t want to find out. Better off not.

“Hey-“ That was completely unfair, but she ignored him as she continued, emphasizing with hand gestures in a way he’d suspect was meant to make fun of his own if it didn’t seem so unwittingly done.

“ _Three_ toothbrushes, _five_ combs, at least twice as many bottles as before,” she listed off while he shrank a little more with each word, “and I dunno if that one thing is for shaving or contacting the mothership,” she threw herself down onto the couch next to him, the frame making an unnerving creak, “but I know that _you_ are **one hundred percent** nesting.”

She chose to emphasize her words with a headlock.

Every time, he thinks that this impromptu wrestling match of theirs will be one he wins, and every time, he’s proven wrong again. One day, he’ll figure out why his pins don’t hold. Or why hers do. Once she let him up, they sat back like the whole thing had never happened.

"Like you and your _girlfriend_ are any better," Henry grumbled, sticking out his tongue. Amber punched his arm. “Ow! Christ, will you _stop_ that?”

“Never!” She mimed evil laughter this time.

“Why am I friends with you again?” He shoved at her arm in mild revenge, which only made her laugh in earnest. “One of these days…”

She waved him off with a snort. “Yeah, yeah. So like, they don’t live here, though, right? I would’ve heard about that by now.”

“No, it’s just… Sometimes, um… For the weekend. You know. It just, uh.” He fidgeted. “Happens.”

“Happens? They just invade outta nowhere?” She smacked one of her palms into the other and then slid it past. How this was supposed to symbolizing invading - or anything at all - he wasn’t sure.

“No! They tell me- the day before. And you know how busy their schedules are. It’s not a problem, okay?”

“Riiight.” She patted his shoulder. “Sounds like you need to have a talk with your boyfriends. Like an _adult._ ” Henry winced.

“Bite me,” he muttered. _Completely unfair._

“Dude. Come on. You seriously haven’t talked about this?” She looked funny with her eyes wide and eyebrows raised like that, but not enough to take away from her words all that much.

“It’s- it’s not the kind of thing that-“ Henry groaned, flopping his head back onto the soft cushion. It didn’t feel so soft when he went that fast, though. “It’s not that simple. I don’t wanna hurt their feelings, and I mean, you know them. Uh. You know how… um… strong-willed they can be.” Amber snorted.

“Yep. But you’re the one with the weird commitment issues. And you know what’ll happen if you let it turn into some big festering thing.“ She glanced sideways at him, an entire lecture in one look.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me,” he sighed.

“I still remember when-“

“ _Don’t._ ” He swatted her leg with the back of his hand. Not too hard, just enough to show he was serious. They had their own methods of communicating. “I get it. If you don’t-”

“Look,” Henry reluctantly dropped the empty threat he was going to make, though he pouted viciously about being interrupted as Amber continued, “you’ve gotta admit that you _are_ an adult now.” She gave him some sort of sharp look, as if daring him to challenge her. He glared at her on principle.

“A.” She poked his chest. “Dult.” And again, so he knocked her hand away. “And that means dealing with your shit,” she finished, unfazed. With how tiring it felt, Henry thought his sigh should’ve been audible on the moon. He let his whole body fall back. His head ended up dangling oddly, not quite reaching his shoulder. “As much as I’d love to sit here and make sure you do something, I really gotta go like five minutes ago.”

“…Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.” He levered himself back up. They walked the short distance to the door in silence, though a friendly one, ending in easy smiles. Their parting hug was comforting - and lacking in any further injury, thankfully.

“And I’m not cleaning up for you anymore!” she called back as she left.

“You haven’t for years!” By the time he’d processed her words and swung around to yell that response, the door had long since closed behind her. Doesn’t matter, his mind was already elsewhere anyway.

Double-checking the lock felt like a good idea, but he walked as slowly as possible, still thinking. _Damnit._ Much more quickly, he grabbed his phone, determined- and did nothing.

No, not nothing. While it slid down to the bottom of his pocket, he went to his dresser, opening up the drawers to look at the stray pieces from his- okay, yes, boyfriends, partners, whatever, _fine_. Did he want this gone? It was such a sad thought that he lingered on it, finding that the answer was no. What about the opposite, all the time? A fast, emphatic **_no_** welled up. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was nowhere near ready for that. (Might not ever be. Or want that.) So what was it?

It hit him like a sledgehammer. _Stop trying to fix this by yourself. It doesn’t only involve you. Take your own advice and **talk.**_

Working his way up to the dreaded task, he walked across the room to open the window. A nearly-nothing breeze fluttered over his arms. Back the other way. _Aaaaany day now,_ he thought, annoyed with himself, fists clenching and unclenching.

He paused.

_But what do I even say?_

A thought sneaks up on him, a blaring, insistent visitor pointing out that it's been so long since he had _invited_ them over that there was a blank space where that fact would otherwise be stored in his brain.

Time to change that. Right now. No more delaying. Time to lay it all on the table. His hand shook minutely as he took his phone out again, but he started the conversation anyway. Even if he was flying in the dark.

*

He laughed so hard when he found the candy bar that he banged his elbow on the stove.

*

“We should make cupcakes,” Ryeowook said decisively from Henry’s lap, lifting each of his fingers with his own and letting them drop, one by one. Donghae grabbed Ryeowook’s middle with both hands, one on each side, moving him to his own lap. Apparently, he was long since used to this, since he only chuckled, switching to Henry’s left hand when he was settled down.

“Sounds good,” Donghae mumbled, leaving one peck after another on the back of Ryeowook’s neck. His joy was melodic. “Mine are gonna be chocolate.”

_I love you so much. I don’t wanna upset you. Will you understand? Can we make sense of it?_

“Yeah, that’s fine. But, um, you remember I said I needed to talk about something, right?”

“Of course,” Ryeowook said, turning to him, open and adoring, squeezing a bit above his knee. “Whatever you need.” The steady rubbing Donghae started up soothed Henry, going over his shoulder and up and down his arm, pausing for the occasional squeeze.

_It’ll be just fine. We’ll get it worked out._

**Author's Note:**

> A very [nice visual.](http://ryeong0621.tumblr.com/post/132594996163)


End file.
